


The Creak in the Floorboards

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Smut-adjacent, Terrible Innuendo, domestic!cs, general appreciation of leather jackets and killian's greatcoat, inspired by episode 6x01, sass and banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: A little bit of domestic!CS silliness inspired by the CS 6x01 sneak peek. This picks up a few days after that episode, and presumes that things had been so hectic in Storybrooke since then that Emma and Killian still hadn't yet had another truly quiet moment to, ahem, “enjoy” together. Until now…





	The Creak in the Floorboards

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr on September 27, 2016.

Letting the gate swing shut behind him with a muted  _clack_ , Killian paused for a moment and gazed at the house ahead of him. His eyes roved over the (slightly uneven) risers of the front steps, swept to the right along the curve of the porch, then traced their way up the turret all the way to its conical roof before sliding back down to rest on the front door.

A contented sigh escaped him as he made his way along the walk and up the steps. He and Emma had only been living here –  _together_ , he thought happily – for a few days, and he had yet to lose the feelings of peace and contentment that washed over him every time he returned home.

 _Home indeed_ , he mused, taking in the warm glow of lamplight spilling out of the front windows into the deepening twilight and feeling all the depth of meaning encompassed in the simple word. After everything they’d been through in the Underworld, and the more recent chaos brought to Storybrooke by Hyde and the denizens of the Land of Untold Stories, he was profoundly grateful for the second chance he and Emma had been given to build a life with each other.

He let himself inside and glanced around the house’s cozy living room before peering into the kitchen, both of which were curiously empty. “Swan?” he called, setting the bag of take out from Granny’s down on the kitchen table before sliding his jacket off and draping it on the back of the chair he usually favored. He began unpacking the dinner he’d agreed to go pick up when they’d parted ways at the sheriff’s station almost an hour earlier – she’d said she’d wanted to stop by Regina’s on the way home to discuss some magical options for combating Hyde and he’d offered to procure their meal – when he realized the house was silent around him. That was strange, as he knew she’d beaten him home – her Bug had been parked in front of the house when he’d returned.

Stepping back into the still-empty living room, he looked about him again, his senses on high alert and worry starting to coil in his gut – and that’s when he saw it.

A single boot – distinctly one Emma had been wearing earlier that day – on the bottom stair, propped against the railing. His eyes flicked upwards, seeing its mate a few steps higher up, tipped over on its side. Continuing up the stairs, he spied a pile of knitted materials that looked suspiciously like the sweater she’d donned that morning.

Killian smirked. His worry dissipated, replaced by a sneaking suspicion – and hope – of what was actually going on. He abandoned the half-laid out dinner in the kitchen, instead following the trail of clothing up the stairs, noting more of it as he climbed. Emma’s jeans had been carelessly thrown over the bannister on the landing, her socks and some utterly fascinating lacy undergarments had been scattered on the uppermost stairs, and, when he reached the upstairs hallway, he spotted the final – unmistakably distinctive – piece of clothing.

Her red leather jacket lay in a careless heap where it had been tossed, directly in front of their closed bedroom door. His smirk deepened, now knowing exactly what her game was. Picking up the jacket with his hook, he opened the door to their room, a playful reprimand already halfway out of his mouth. “Now, love, I thought I’d told you that I  _liked_  you in your red –” he stopped abruptly, brought up short by the sight in front of him.

Given the trail of clothing he’d just followed, Killian had expected Emma to be entirely naked, but apparently his Swan had yet one more trick up her sleeve.  _Or, rather, sleeves_ , he thought absently, mesmerized by the vision Emma made. He didn’t even notice when her jacket fell from his hook, landing on the floor again with a muffled  _thump_.

The waning light from the window illuminated her where she was sprawled out on their bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows, and wearing absolutely nothing but his old leather greatcoat. Or, more accurately, loosely wrapped in it. She’d allowed it to slip off both of her shoulders, the soft leather pooling at her elbows and held in place in front of her by her crossed arms. Her hair was loose, tumbling down in a golden cascade over her bare shoulders and serving as the only thing obscuring her breasts from his view. One long, pale leg peeked out from the folds of the coat, the creamy skin a stark contrast to the worn black leather.

By the time he wrenched his gaze back to hers, he found that she was now the one smirking at him. “I  _know_  what you said the other day, Killian,” she began, the smirk morphing into a coy smile. “But I’ve got to confess, I always really liked this coat.”

“Did you really?” he breathed, toeing out of his own shoes and socks before stepping closer to the bed.

She nodded, the coat shifting slightly with the movement and falling further down her arms. “Mm, yep,” she murmured. “Your new one’s great too, but…there’s just  _something_  about this one.”

He continued to move closer to her, deftly undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and shrugging out of it without taking his eyes away from hers. “I have to say, it almost looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

Her laughter bubbled up freely as she tossed her head back. “Well, that makes sense, right? Didn’t you always say I’d make a good pirate?”

By this point, he’d divested himself of his shirt as well and was standing at the end of the bed, gazing down on her as he slid his belt from its loops and let it drop to the floor. He shook his head at her question. “I believe, if we’re being perfectly accurate, love, that I said I always knew there was a little pirate in you.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, fixing him with the most provocative stare he’d ever seen on anyone who wasn’t an  _actual_ siren. She licked her lips, her eyes following his hand as he popped the button on his jeans before he dropped to his knees. “Maybe  _more_  than a little, hmm?” she asked, her tone laced with a playful challenge.

“Mm,” he hummed his assent, reaching out and circling her ankle with his fingers. He tugged, pulling her closer to him and eliciting a startled yelp and more laughter from her. The coat fell open further, baring more of her long, lean legs to him, and he bent his head to press a slow, wet kiss above her right knee. He looked up and caught her eyes with his again, a wicked grin curling the corners of his mouth before he leaned down again to suck a mark into the soft skin of her left thigh. He heard the hitch in her breathing and chuckled softly. “Although not  _quite_  yet.”

He felt as much as heard her impatient huff. “Well then, get  _up_  here, sailor. That pillaging and plundering you promised is long overdue.”

He pushed himself up, crawling onto the bed and settling against her. Her knees rose on either side of his hips, cradling him as the coat fell completely away from her legs. She stared up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her deepening breaths. Reaching up, she threaded one of her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged him down into a kiss so deep and passionate that it nearly stole his senses.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. “Oh darling,” he murmured, “I fully intend to remedy that  _immediately_.”

-/-

Much, much later, in the dim, grey half-light of the pre-dawn, as he lay curled around a sleeping Emma in their bed, Killian once again mentally thanked Zeus and all the other gods he’d ever heard of in his long, long life for bringing him back to her – for bringing him  _home_.


End file.
